


Blood Stains On My Soul

by TinkerBella



Category: Midnight Texas (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 05:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinkerBella/pseuds/TinkerBella
Summary: Remember the Hightower Episode, Unearthed?  Yeah, so this is an insert of how I wished it had gone.  My alternate scenario, so to speak.





	Blood Stains On My Soul

Olivia slid out of bed, brushing a soft kiss to Lem's forehead, before slipping quietly out the door. Normally Lemuel wouldn't be asleep, given it was still dark out, but he was healing from all the gunshot wounds he had acquired while helping Bobo rescue Fiji, so he would be out for a while. Knowing that he was safe gave Olivia the peace of mind to leave him, while she paid a visit to another resident of Midnight.

 

A hard knock on the door, startled Manfred, causing him to fumble the towel he had been using to dry his hair after his long, hot, shower. Wincing as he bent to pick up the towel, Manfred chucked it in the general direction of the clothes hamper. Another, harder, knock sounded and he snagged his t-shirt before heading for the front door. 

 

"I'm coming!" Manfred called out, hoping to ward off yet another round of knocking. The pounding made his head hurt. He unlocked the door and yanked it open, more than a little surprised by the identity of the person standing on his porch. "Olivia?"

 

She smirked at him, her eyes raking over Manfred from head to toe, not missing a thing. "You look surprised to see me," Olivia stated.

 

Manfred didn't bother to lie about it. "That would be because I am."

 

"You going to invite me in?" Even as she asked, Olivia stepped forward.

 

"Right - sorry." Manfred stepped back to let her pass by him, only then realizing he was still shirtless. After closing the door he pulled the t-shirt over his head.

 

Olivia stopped him from smoothing it down over his torso. Her eyes took note of every mottled bruise and red patch that colored his ribs and torso, even as she reached out to brush her fingertips over the tender skin. 

 

Manfred hissed and pulled away, tugging his shirt down before combing his fingers through his hair as he tried to think of a way to make this very awkward moment, less awkward. So he blurted out, "What are you doing here?"

 

"I came over to see how things went with Hightower," Olivia replied. She gestured to his ribcage area. "He do that to you?"

 

"The flight of stairs he pushed me down did that to me," Manfred confessed. When it happened he hadn't really felt much pain other than from a few impact areas but, now, hours later, he ached pretty much from head to toe. 

 

Olivia could tell that Manfred was hurting, but at the same time she was pretty certain he had a very high tolerance for pain. Which prompted her to ask, "Anything broken?"

 

Manfred shrugged, instantly regretted it, and replied, "Pretty sure I'm just bruised, not broken."

 

"I brought something that might help with that." From behind her back, Olivia withdrew a bottle of whiskey. "I brought the good stuff. Feel like a shot or two?" 

 

"God, yes!" Manfred was already heading to the kitchen for glasses.

 

Olivia caught up to him and poured them both a shot. Taking her glass, she held it up for a toast. "Here's to putting the past behind you. Finally."

 

Manfred was more than happy to drink to that, so he tapped his glass to hers and then they both tossed back the shot. He could feel the burn make it's way from his tongue, to the slow slide down his throat and into his belly where it spread a pleasant warmth. "Wow...that is the good stuff," Manfred approved.

 

"The best money can buy," Olivia confirmed, already pouring them another. They tossed that back without hesitation or a toast, and as Olivia refilled their glasses for the third time she asked, "How did Hightower die?"

 

"What makes you think he's dead?" Manfred countered.

 

Olivia shrugged. "If he was alive, you wouldn't be." From the moment she had promised Creek to help Manfred, Olivia had known it would end with one of them dead. She had to admit, at least to herself, that she was glad Manfred had survived. Despite herself, Olivia was developing a microscopic soft spot for the psychic. 

 

Manfred raised his glass to her. "Point." They clinked then drank and Manfred realized he was starting to feel a bit buzzed and almost woozy. In fact he was starting to feel like his body was turning into liquid, which translated into his knees starting to get all wobbly.

 

"Time to bring this party over to the couch," Olivia stated, as she caught on to Manfred's condition. She set their glasses aside then carefully wrapped an arm around his waist as she guided him over to his couch and got them settled. "So how did Hightower died? Did you shoot him?" She would have, in Manfred's place.

 

"Believe it or not...he used his glass trick on himself." Talking about it brought Manfred back to that moment. and he closed his eyes as if he could shut out the memory of it.

 

Olivia reached out and squeezed Manfred's shoulder, grounding him in the present. "That's good. Means there's no blood on your hands." That was definitely better for him, moving forward.

 

Manfred wanted to believe her, but he didn't. "Maybe not on my hands, but it feels like my soul is stained red."

 

"I know that feeling," Olivia confessed, but that was all she was willing to offer. Catching Manfred trying to stifle a jaw cracking yawn, she got up and gestured for him to do the same. "Come on...it's time for all good psychics to go to bed."

 

"That's okay..." Manfred blinked up at her through heavy eyelids, having pondered the pros and cons of getting up verses just staying put. "I'm good, right here." He patted the couch and let himself start drooping sideways.

 

Olivia caught him by the shoulders. "You'll sleep better in your own bed and, trust me, you will sleep." With that she bent to drape one of Manfred's arms over her shoulders before bodily hauling him to his feet.

 

Manfred looked at her in shock, surprised both by her ability to manhandle him in such a manner - for a slim woman she was scarily strong - and by the fact that his legs were actually in working order because they felt kind of numb. Then it hit him what she had just said. "Wait...did you drug me?"

 

"Maybe." Olivia pointed Manfred in the direction of his bedroom and they were off. A moment later she toppled him, gently, onto the bed before dragging the comforter over him as he curled up on his side. "I'll stop by in the morning with my hangover remedy. Trust me, you'll need it."

 

"Nah..." Manfred mumbled, peeling one eyelid open to glare at her. "Gypsies can drink Irishmen under the table AND I'm basically a functioning drug addict. S'all good." 

 

Olivia chuckled at how proud he seemed to be of that fact. "I have to say, I'm impressed that you're still able to be so eloquently vocal but, that said, I'm not sure you should be bragging about that particular skill set."

 

Manfred scowled. "Pffffft. Better than bragging about dead people." He heaved a sigh and looked ready to make another pronouncement, but instead he snuggled his face into the pillow.

 

"Good point," Olivia conceded, before ruffling his hair. "Now go to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning." At least she hoped he would, because she had drugged him in the hope that he would get a good night's sleep. It had been a long, hard day for Manfred and he had earned a good twelve hours of oblivion.

 

Come morning, Olivia would check on him again and maybe take him to breakfast. For now she turned off the light and closed the bedroom door. Quietly she cleaned their glasses, before capping the bottle of whiskey. She would leave it for Manfred, and maybe she'd invite herself over again for a drink or three. Olivia had the feeling they had more in common than blood stained souls.

 

That was for another time. Tonight she was content to let herself out, locking the door behind her. She had done what the people of Midnight always did, took care of their own.

 

THE END


End file.
